


Cold Snap

by NotTasha



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Cold, Cold Weather, Gen, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 14:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5543291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotTasha/pseuds/NotTasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ezra finds himself in a frozen, snow-filled world</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Snap

**Author's Note:**

> RATING: G  
> MAJOR CHARACTERS: Ezra – with Nathan, Josiah and Vin at the end  
> DISCLAIMERS: This is fanfiction. No profit involved. This story is based on the television series "The Magnificent Seven". No infringement upon the copyrights held by CBS, MGM, Showtime Extreme, Trilogy Entertainment Group, The Mirisch Corp. or any others involved with that production is intended.  
> NOTE: This is based on a dream  
> DATE: Originally posted November 26, 2015.

He was standing in his room.

He had no idea how he'd ended up in that spot. He had been somewhere else earlier -- in the middle of an important task. He was trying to reach someone, to stop someone, to do something.

What? 

He blinked, wanting to bring everything into focus, but the room was blurred and too bright. He blinked again, bringing the images together.

Snow -- white and bright and overpowering.

A light layer of white covered everything – his bed, his wardrobe, his rocking chair. It covered the little bottles and the picture frame on his dresser, filled his basin and ewer. It covered his shaving stand, obscuring his mirror. Snow clung to the walls. It coated his books, making them all the same. Within his open wardrobe, his jackets had been transformed to only whites and grays.

How?

He frowned at the peculiarity of it. It didn't seem right.

He turned, seeking a reason. The window was open, curtains hanging stiffly – frozen beside it. Hoar frost crept its fingers across the raised pane.

It had been so cold lately. How could he have been so insipid as to leave his window open all night? 

Would that have allowed so much snow in?

Outside, everything was winter white – the town seemed utterly buried. Bright sun made the whiteness almost blinding. He stood at the open window for several moments, staring out into it. 

They were in the middle of a cold snap. It had been bitter cold for over a week now. Vin had said that a storm was coming, bringing some snow. He'd underestimated it.

Snow blanketed landmarks and signs – turning everything to the same empty white. The buildings lost definition. Balconies, barrels and boardwalks vanished. No sign of color. Nothing moved. Nothing made a noise.

All was impossibly still.

In the sky, there was no sun – only a bright cover of white that made him squint.

He turned from the window with a frown. He had to find the others – find out what was going on and if anything needed to be done. For certainly, they needed to do something.

They'd been involved in some event, hadn't they? – Something important. He'd been in the middle of it moments before. 

And now this. Why was the town so quiet? Certainly, the townspeople should be awake. The unseen sun was up, yet there were no tracks in the snow – all was pristine and white.

Josiah. Was he trying to reach Josiah?

He stood at the top of the stairs – gazing down into the saloon. Snow – the entire saloon filled with it. The stairs were impassible – snow reached halfway up the steps. Below, the tables were buried under it – the bar invisible – the mirror covered – windows fogged -- lamps capped. Tons of snow.

It was incredible, impossible – it would take all day to dig it out.

How was he supposed to get out? There was no way he could make it through all that! He didn't even have a shovel. As he pondered this, he supposed he had something in his room that could be used for digging – the basin from his wash stand, but he'd paid a pretty penny for that set and it would be a shame to ruin it. Of course the ewer was probably cracked now from the water left inside.

How was he supposed to remove so much snow, and where should it go? The streets were already choked with it. He supposed he could melt it – if he could only get to the stove.

But the wood would be wet and the matches were probably fouled, and how was he even supposed to make it to the stove if he couldn't get down the stairs?

He'd have to try the back stairs instead – with any luck he'd be able to get down, and then go to the hardware store for a shovel. From there he could dig a path through the saloon – free up the stove, start a fire, and then start digging out the stairs so that he could get down.

He was standing on the boardwalk. Well, that was easy. He smiled, congratulating himself on his abilities, even though he didn't remember how he'd been able to get this far. Certainly, it took some effort to get down from the upper level. Perhaps the snow had left the back stairway bare?

That had to be it. Strange that he didn't recall.

From his position, he could see the whole street under feet of snow.

Everything was so quiet. Not a soul moved, not a hint of wind – only the bleak whiteness that covered all. There wasn't a single track in the snow, no blemish to mar the white. Above the sky was a milky gray. Around him, the buildings had lost their color. The weathered brown of the wood was gone – faded into grays. Not a single store's sign showed – windows were opaque – wiping away all variance and making everything the same.

What was he supposed to be doing?

Somewhere, far off, he heard a voice. Vin?

His gaze fastened on Vin's wagon, across the street and completely coated in snow – the canvas top collapsed under the weight of it.

Vin!

He reached out a hand.

Vin!

He touched the wagon -- already beside it. In horror, he saw that the snow had utterly crushed it. He tried to sweep the layer from the canvas, but found his movements lethargic and slow. Why couldn't he move any faster? He brushed at the snow, hardly able to move anything.

Why was he so useless?

With a grimace, he realized that he'd left his room without his gloves, without his winter coat. 

What was he thinking? Well, there was no time to worry about that. He had to get Vin out of there.

Valiantly, he pulled at the canvas, trying to get under it to find his friend. He was certain that he'd heard Vin calling. Was he staying in the wagon in this bad weather? Even Vin wasn't that rustic. It had been so cold all week -- he should be in the boarding house.

He had been, hadn't he?

He paused and stared at his hands, bare in the snow – but not cold. He was not cold at all in this silent, white world. He felt nothing really. He wasn't even breathing out any steam.

He frowned at that. Was he breathing at all?

Wham! 

Something hit him hard, jerked at him, pulled at him, yanking him off his feet.

He fell to his knees. 

What was it? What? The canvas? Ice falling from the rooftops? A building giving way under the weight?

Grabbing, pulling, grasping.

He wanted to struggle against it, but he felt pinned and thick and slow. He could hardly move.

For a moment, he heard Vin calling again. He tried to turn, to look for him, but his head wouldn't move, his legs were leaden, his arms – limp. JD, he could hear JD as well.

He gasped. He gasped again, filling his lungs with air and breathing out harshly. He coughed and gasped, feeling like a fish torn from the water. 

For a moment he saw something else – trees. He was looking upward into the sky and seeing trees.

Vin called, his voice, muted and distant. A face swam in his vision for a moment– concerned, anxious. 

It faded, faded away -- replaced again with the white – the snow and the endless white.

He was on his knees, sucking in air as if he was starved for it. He felt dizzy and his mind just wouldn't clear. When he raised his head, he was no longer next to Vin's wagon. 

Shakily, he stood and took in his surroundings.

He was in Josiah's church. He'd been trying to reach Josiah.

The church was bigger than it should have been – with huge stained glass windows. It shone like diamonds.

Everything was coated in a layer of ice. Huge, menacing icicles dangled above his head like stalactites. He could hear his breath as he moved and was surprised at the sound – everything had been silent before.

Ice, inches thick, glazed the pews and the walls. The lectern was utterly encased, the walls and windows crusted with ice. He stared at the glass for a moment, knowing that Josiah never had stained glass. An entire wall was now made up of the stuff. The pattern was abstract and all in whites and grays. He was lost for a moment as he stared at the images – trying to draw saints and psalms from the patterns.

He didn't know how long he stared into the windows, finding nothing outside of a scattering of broken snowflakes. When he looked down, at the thick ice beneath his feet, he could almost see water moving beneath.

And then he realized that the room was vibrating.

Spider webs of cracks formed under him. The ice was too thin. He gripped the nearest pew – as he stared downward. The floor snapped and cracked. The sound filled the room as it continued to shake.

The ice was too thin.

He knew that – he remembered that fact. The ice was too thin, and yet he chanced it anyway.

Voices again – Josiah. He was mumbling, his voice soft and reassuring, yet urgent, troubled. Where was he? 

He needed to get to Josiah.

He stepped forward, keeping one bare hand on an icy pew, and then reached for the next one. He edged further into the church. Beneath him, the ice continued to split and everything trembled.

He should leave. He should go back. He forced himself onward. Josiah's voice kept up a litany in his ear, unintelligible but filled with portent.

He needed to reach Josiah. Josiah was in trouble.

The church spread onward – the path to the altar stretched impossibly long – like the cathedrals of Europe. Alcoves and chapels split off and the light tremblor rolled on. Alabaster saints looked down from their niches, their gazes cold and indifferent. 

He edged onward, desperate to get to Josiah, to find him.

Something was wrong.

The ice continued to crack with every step. Above, the formless shapes in the stained glass seemed to swirl. The saints pulled up their shawls of ice. Outside, the sky dimmed, bringing more grays to the glass, edging shapes in black.

The icicles grew longer. Beneath them, stalagmites reached upward.

Frustrated, he tried to hurry, but his movements were slow as molasses, and between the slickness beneath him, the lengthening room and the constant shuddering of everything around him, he could make little headway.

It was hard to breathe. It was as if the air itself was growing thick.

The icicles above merged into the ice below, forming great columns, crowding the space. Patterns seemed to form in the columns, gothic and foreboding.

Josiah -- he had to reach Josiah – if he could only break through! 

He pressed a hand onto one of the pillars, wondering why he wasn't burning with the cold. He felt nothing. Nothing at all. 

Light was fading. There were no candles to illuminate the space.

He could move no further. He needed to get Nathan and…

He was standing in Nathan's clinic. Voices again. Nathan! Was that Nathan? But where? There was nothing here. 

Nothing.

He saw only wide-open spaces.

He knew he was in Nathan's clinic – but there were no walls, no roof – only the floor with the livery beneath -- only the floor and a bed – bare and leached of color.

He turned slowly, looking out at the maelstrom around him. A storm blew. Wind whipped snow in a torrent, the roar filled his ears. A haze of white and gray seemed to lick at invisible walls, skidded across a missing ceiling, to pile snow around the perimeter of the room.

Nathan's voice continued – far off and nearly lost in the bombast of the wind. Chris and Buck, too, but the wind was eating them up.

The sky was growing darker. The snow rose higher. Where before it had been so bright, the world dimmed with dusk.

Where was Nathan?

He wanted to move through the room, but felt frozen in place. The wind swirled the snow madly against the glass-like walls. It didn't appear to bringing new snow, only stirring up what had already fallen, pressing the snow closer to the exposed room, drawing dark shadows.

Soon the room would be covered. The snow was more gray than white now – in places, more black than gray.

He had to find them. Had to find the others.

He looked around the wall-less room, seeking the exit – but the snow impeded him. There was no way out. He couldn't find the balcony nor the stairway down. Even taking the few steps to cross the room exhausted him. His limbs seemed unwilling to bend, his mind was muddled. Dusk was deepening.

Winter nights came early.

The others – they must be in the boarding house, trapped. He had to get to them, to free them so that they could save the town.

Four Corners would be totally covered soon if they didn't do something about it.

Ezra found himself on one edge of the room. The wall of snow was over his head now, surrounded him. But he had to get out. Without a stairway, he had no choice. It would be a long drop, but the snow would cushion him.

With a nod, he pressed into the snow. He only had to move through it – through the white wall, and fall.

He was standing in a field, staring back at the town. How had he come so far? Time had passed, the sky was nearly dark – blackness mostly, fading to a gray in one corner.

The town sat in the last of the light, visible even under its heavy mantle of snow. It wasn't far. He could walk the distance – if he could only move. 

There was no moon, no stars.

He tried to get closer to town, but he was locked in place, snow nearly to his neck.

He had to get back – had to plow through his snow and return. The others, the others must be in trouble.

It was hard to breathe, so very hard. He was struggling now, as the snow pressed, as the sky continued to blacken, even over the town. He let out a slow breath as it disappeared completely.

He blinked when something touched his eyelashes and it took a moment for him to realize it was a snowflake.

He tipped his head back to stare upward.

Snow was falling – light snowflakes swirling in the blackness. The flakes dipped and turned above him, dancing, beautiful. 

There's something utterly breathtaking about falling snow.

He rested, letting the snow support him as he looked up. Snowfall filled his vision -- twisting turning snowflakes in the gloom, falling from the never-ending blackness.

It was peaceful. It was calm. The roaring of the wind was gone. He didn't even need to breathe anymore as he stared into the blackness.

He felt nothing as the snow consumed him, as winter took hold.

Peaceful.

And then the ice broke beneath him.

He fell into water and suddenly his world was filled with hot and cold, voices calling, hands reaching. 

"He's coming out of it."

"Praise God!"

The pond! He'd fallen in. He struggled. The ice was too thin! He should have known, he should have realized – but he'd needed to cross it. He had to take the chance. If he didn't try, then…

Then what?

He fought. He had to get out of the water that was so warm, even as he was freezing cold.

Hands gripped him, forcing him down.

He was so cold.

"Hold him!"

"Ezra, Ezra, can you hear me! Ezra don't fight."

He had to keep fighting. He had to try. It was worth the chance, he knew it.

So cold – cold as ice.

"Keep his head out of it. Ezra, listen, we're trying to help. Keep still!"

His heart thudded, his breathing came in gasps – visions – the yellows and browns – greens and blues – faces.

He had to do it, despite the thin ice, he had to keep trying. He was so cold.

Water was splashing and he had to get out of it. He had to keep trying, but his heart was beating so hard, his breathing came in gasps. 

"It's okay, Ezra. It's okay. You need to calm down."

He wanted to – Lord how he wanted to – but his heart refused to comply and the blackness came back.

7.7.7.7.7.7.7

Ezra was warm.

His first sensation was warmth. Earlier, he'd felt absolutely nothing, so the return of warm was welcome – until it wasn't.

He was too warm.

He was in a bed, under a heavy layer of blankets. His hands were hot. He moved one slowly, finding something smooth beneath his fingers. It took several moments for his waking mind to realize it was a rock – a warm rock.

He was too warm – so he pushed it away, out from under the covers. He heard it land on wood planking with a thunk.

"Ezra?"

There was one under his other hand. He pushed it out – off the other side of the bed. Thunk.

"Ezra!"

More stones pressed against his side. Why were there rocks in his bed?

He started work on the right side first – shoving away the stones that were keeping him too warm for comfort. He liked a warm bed, but this was ridiculous. He was going to start sweating soon.

Thunk and thunk and …

"Stop that!" A hand came down, trapping his arm under the covers. "They're for your own good, Ezra."

His left arm was still free and he managed to shove two more rocks away before hands came down on his other arm.

"Knock it off, Ezra."

"Trying to…" he managed to say, his voice rough and sore.

Someone chuckled and he looked up to find Nathan and Josiah staring down at him, both of them holding him in place. He was in the clinic. There were walls and a ceiling surrounding them. It was warm and cheery and close. He gazed about in wonder.

"Welcome back," Nathan said, looking relieved.

"Thank the Lord," Josiah proclaimed, pleased as punch.

Neither of them made a move to release him. They just stared down at him as if he was a sight to behold.

"Leggo," Ezra said intelligently, trying to move his arms out from under them. They had him pinned.

"Only if you promise to stop pushing out the bed-warmers. We've been putting a lot of work into rotating them out for you," Josiah told him.

"Too warm," Ezra responded. He was a surprised at the reaction he received. They both laughed. 

"Best news I've heard," Josiah said with a toothy grin.

"Ezra, I've never been happier to hear you complain," Nathan said, releasing his hold with a suspicious look. "Are you going to be good?"

"Can't promise," Ezra responded.

Josiah snorted, and said, "I suppose that's the best we can expect." He paused a moment and then asked, "Do you remember what happened?" 

"I fell through the ice," Ezra told them.

"It was foolish, Ezra," Josiah chastised immediately, his voice stern. "Do you know how close you came to dying? And for what? Pure foolishness and empty-headedness."

"Now, now, Josiah," Nathan softly stated. "Where would you be if he wasn't so foolish?"

Josiah gave Nathan a sharp look. "He could've gone about it another way. You can't deny that!"

"True," Nathan said, philosophically, but the smile returned as he gave Ezra a pat. "Just glad you're back."

"I wasn't doing anything!" Ezra insisted, watching Josiah, seeing his unsettled expression. "I was just… trying to return, but I was too far out. I don't know how I got there. The snow was too thick, the saloon was full of it, Vin's wagon was crushed, the church was frozen and the clinic was gone -- or mostly gone and…" he paused, frowning at his explanation.

Both Nathan and Josiah looked confused, but not totally surprised. Nathan moved away from the bed, to the stove, to stir a pot. "You must be hungry," he said. "I have some hot turkey soup. If you're feeling better you can have some leftovers."

"Leftovers?" Ezra echoed. "Thanksgiving?" He remembered it now. It had been Thanksgiving morning.

"You missed the feast," Nathan said. He looked toward Ezra and added, "We all kinda missed it. The ladies were kind enough to save enough for us."

Josiah, Ezra realized, hadn't released his arm yet. Ezra stared at the grip, and Josiah finally let go, looking almost reluctant to do so. "You could have died," he said again. He looked so upset, and Ezra wasn't sure if the big man was angry or sad.

The door to the clinic opened. Ezra was glad for the distraction as Vin looked in. He carried turkey leg in one hand. Tanner's expression was anxious for a moment, until their eyes met, and he smiled.

"I see he finally woke up," Vin said. His smile didn't dip as he came around the bed. He sat on one corner and lightly rapped Ezra on the head. "He come to senses?" he asked the others as he took a bite from the leg.

"Not quite," Josiah conceded. "I don't think he remembers what happened."

Ezra shook his head. "I remember parts, but none of it makes sense."

"You ran out on the lake," Nathan told him. "JD said you were trying to cut off those banditos…"

"Banditos?" Ezra echoed.

"They were trying to rob the stage," Vin told him. "They didn't get far. They took off and we got 'em surrounded out by Palmer's Pond. Wasn't hard to track 'em with the snow on the ground."

"Yes," Ezra said. "So much snow, you could hardly move through it."

Vin gave him a strange look. "Weren't but an inch," he said, then continued, "They split up so we had do the same, to get around them." He lifted his gaze to Josiah. "A couple of them got in-between us and Josiah. The preacher man didn't know he'd been cut off. Didn't see them stealin' up on him. He wasn't gonna have any easy cover once they got over that rise."

Ezra frowned as he tried to get his mind to work. None of this sounded familiar.

Vin took another bite from the turkey leg. "Good eatin'," he said, dangling the leg in front of Ezra's eyes to annoy him.

Nathan spoke as he pulled a bowl from his cupboard, "You ran across the pond to get to them before they overtook him. The cold had frozen the surface. Not enough." And he gave Ezra a hard look.

"You should've known better," Josiah grumbled, sitting forward in his chair, looking menacing. "You should've known the ice wouldn't hold! What were you thinking?"

Vin shook his head. "He's from one of them hot states, Josiah. I've had experience in such things, but he don't know nothin' about snow and ice."

"I've seen enough," Ezra said quietly. "I've had experience."

"You got a ways out on the pond and fell right through," Vin explained. "One second you were there, and the next you'd plumb dropped away. Caused a commotion. The bad guys got distracted and never got to where Josiah was, so I guess you saved his bacon. You did it tryin' to keep him safe."

"He almost drowned," Josiah said morosely. "Just about froze to death."

Ezra listened, remembering the snapping of ice beneath his feet – there was so much ice. Finally, he said, "That doesn't sound much like me."

Nathan snorted.

"JD and I crawled out after you," Vin said. "We were smart enough to know we couldn't walk. I had to lay out on my belly while JD held my feet. Had a hard time reaching you."

Vin's voice was low, his head lowered. "I just couldn't grab hold of you for a while. I kept tryin' but you drifted too far under the ice. Once I was able to catch ya, I couldn't get you out fast enough. I was too slow."

Ezra watched Vin carefully, "But you got me out?"

"You weren't movin' a'tall until I tried to get you above water. You came around for a bit, gaspin' for air and all. I was afraid you were just gonna smash out the ice around us, but then you stopped movin' altogether."

Vin wouldn't look at him. "JD was able to drag us out most of the way. Nathan managed the rest. The rest had to deal with those outlaws."

"You were as white a snow," Josiah said softly. "Hardly breathing and cold as ice."

"I thought you were dead," Vin said, and gave him a thump on the shoulder with his free hand. "Thought I was pulling a body out to bury. It'd be a hell of a thing to do during this cold snap, on Thanksgiving no less. Would probably need to dynamite the ground."

Ezra looked at Tanner. Vin's voice had taken an easy going tone, but there was a haunted and disturbed expression. When Ezra looked to Josiah, he saw a terrible grief and he had to look away.

"You didn't look good, Ezra," Nathan said, his own expression morose. "I didn't know if I could do anything to save you."

Everyone was silent for a moment, before Nathan continued the story. "There wasn't much I could do out there with no fire. It'd take a while to start one. You were soaked through and Vin wasn't much better. We were close enough to town so we got you on a horse with Josiah. We went like hell to get you to the clinic."

"You were so cold," Josiah said, his voice a whisper. "Dear God, you were so cold. All I wanted to do was to get you back to town where we could warm you up. Nothing I could do would wake you."

The hurt in Josiah's eyes was too much, so Ezra watched Nathan, who was still stirring the soup, bowl in hand.

"You just couldn't hold any heat," Nathan said. "No matter what I did, you were just getting colder all along." The healer's gaze remained on the soup pot. "Your breathing started to get bad. I was afraid we were losing you." He paused a moment as he poked at the pot. "I've heard folk say it's a bad idea, but it was the last choice I had. We got a tub of hot water up here and tried plunging you in."

"Apparently, it helped," Ezra said.

"Might've stopped your heart," Nathan said. "I was afraid it was the wrong choice. I was mighty afraid I was killing you."

Vin smacked Ezra again on the shoulder.

"Would you stop that?" Ezra finally snapped.

"That's for gettin' everyone upset!" Vin said. He flicked at his ear next. "Just making sure you're not numb still," he explained as Ezra tried to flinch away. "Doesn't change the fact that you're still a numbskull." 

Nathan smiled as he finally dipped a ladle into the pot and drew out a spoon of soup. "It worked," he said as he filled the bowl. "You finally started warming up after that. Your breathing got better."

"Thank the Lord," Josiah added.

Ezra pulled his hands out from under the overly warm blankets. He took a moment to examine them. "No frostbite?" he asked.

"Looks like you'll be okay," Nathan said, handing him the bowl.

"My hands are my bread and butter," Ezra reminded them as he cupped the bowl in one hand.

Josiah stood with a groan, as if he had been sitting in that position for a long time. He moved and stared out at the town.

Outside, the sky was blue. The buildings stood as they had before – not the slightest sign of snow. "It melted," Josiah said quietly. "I didn't realize it was gone."

"Sun came out," Vin said. "Snow never lasts. Not here at least." He went back to chewing on his turkey leg.

"I'm glad of that," Nathan added, handing Ezra a spoon. "Now, leave him alone. He needs to eat his Thanksgiving dinner."

Josiah said, "There's plenty to be thankful for this year."

Ezra smiled a thanks as he took the spoon. "But, there will be pie?" he asked.

Nathan nodded. "Of course," he said. "There's always pie." And he smiled warmly.

And Ezra grinned widely as he started his turkey leftover soup, and Vin leaned next to him, gnawing away. Josiah returned to his seat, smiling fondly as Nathan continued to absently stir at the soup.

THE END


End file.
